Highland Pride
Scottish Strife Series Book 6
by
Dana D’Angelo
Copyright Information
Copyright © 2019 - Dana D’Angelo
www.dana-dangelo.com
All rights reserved. This book, in its entirety or in parts, may not be reproduced in any format without expressed permission. Scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book through the Internet or through any other type of distribution or retrieval channel without the permission of the author is illegal and is punishable by law. Please purchase only legitimate electronic versions of this book and do not engage in or encourage piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
The characters, places and events portrayed in this fictional work are a result of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to real events, locales, or people, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Thank You Gift
Acknowledgments
About The Author
Glossary
More Titles By Dana D’Angelo
Chapter 1
Scotland, 1561
As her sister recounted her travels, Kila MacGregon tried to tamp down the envy that suddenly flooded her chest. She looked surreptitiously at the women gathered in the solar and watched them lapping up Mairead’s story as if this was the first time they heard it. Who really cared that Mairead had traveled through the Scottish countryside with her husband?
The room seemed overly warm, but Kila forced herself to stay seated in her stool. A moment later, she set aside her embroidery hoop and picked up the reference book that was on the ground. She rested the book on her lap and observed the woodcut illustration of a thistle. The design was simple enough, and all she had to do was to reproduce the pattern on a linen panel.
Her sister-in-law Darra Berchelaine believed that the great hall in Tancraig Castle was too barren and needed some feminine touches. Thus the project was conceived, and they became immersed in creating a tapestry to decorate the far wall. They used a variety of popular books as references and divided the images among the women. The undertaking was supposed to last them well into the next year, and each of them was responsible for stitching the various patterns. They would work on individual panels and then sew them together to create a larger piece.
At the end of it, there would be a total of thirty-six individual parts. Each section would contain colored silks edged with silver and silver-gilt threads, and they would be mounted on a background of forest-green velvet. The central image would bear the MacGregon arms and the motto: Ad Victoriam, to victory. Mairead decided that she wanted to tackle the central piece. This was fine with Kila since she could then concentrate on the easier patterns of local plants, animals, and fish.
Her older sister launched into another story, and Kila tried to block it from her mind. She traced the outline of the drawing with her finger, trying to calculate the number of stitches she needed to make while also manipulating the needle in the fabric.
But her mind didn’t want to be inundated with figures. Instead, she allowed her thoughts to drift, imagining herself relaxing by a faery pool that she had recently read about. She became entranced by the idea and absently poked the needle into the coarsely woven linen, pricking her finger.
“Aiya!” The sudden pain jerked her out of her reverie, and she nearly threw the wooden hoop across the room.
Mairead paused in her storytelling and sent her a curious look. The rest of the women in the room also stared at her.
Kila retrieved her work and sat back in her seat. She hunched her shoulders. “Sorry,” she muttered as she sucked the blood from her injured finger.
She dropped her gaze to her canvas piece and made a few more stitches in the linen. She clenched her teeth as she waited for the women to resume their conversation and their work. In truth, she wasn’t sorry at all. She wanted to leave the room. Kila was the only unmarried woman in the solar, and she was getting tired of hearing the ladies speak about their partners. Each love story she heard either made her want to gag or to cause the band of envy to tighten around her chest. Her older sister had found romance and was now married. She couldn’t begrudge Mairead for finding love, but Kila couldn’t help feeling sorry for herself. Perhaps she should have insisted in accompanying Mairead to Bracken Ridge. Her sister managed to find romance along the way there, and Kila imagined that if she had traveled with her, it was likely she would have met someone as well.
Unfortunately, she was forced to stay at the castle, waiting for the war to finish, and for the suitors to reappear. It was now a year later, and she had yet to find a man who interested her. Nor did she find the love that everyone spoke about. In a flash, she saw her future laid out before her. In that image, she saw a miserable, gray-haired, unmarried woman who was still being supported by her older brothers. The glimpse into her bleak future caused her mood to turn darker.
None of the men she met made her feel anything like how the women described. With luck against her, it was unlikely that she would find a match similar to her sister’s or to her older brothers’ for that matter.
“And the wonders of the land,” Mairead gushed, her eyes glazing over as if she recalled the beauty she had witnessed. “Of course, Thom has seen the different terrain during his messenger runs, but I truly had nay idea that we lived in such a bonnie country.”
Darra made a sound of agreement. “I saw many of the same things when I trekked through Scotland.”
Kila stared down at her unfinished needlework just as the back of her throat burned and her eyes became blurred. As the war against the English raged on, her sister was having a wonderful adventure. Meanwhile, Kila was stuck at home, and the farthest place she had ever visited was to the nearby town. Of course, no one cared about what she wanted. And as things were going, love would be elusive to her.
She let out a small hiss, although it came out louder than she intended. Darra glanced in her direction, but Kila pretended not to notice Rory’s wife. Bored, restless and annoyed, she couldn’t concentrate any longer on the fine stitches she needed to make. She didn’t care about this project, and she didn’t care about hearing about her sister’s escapades across the Scottish countryside. She had enough. She closed the reference book and put it on the ground before she tossed her embroidery hoop on top of it.
Kila was the only woman left in the castle that hadn’t seen anything or met anyone significant. She felt as if she were a prisoner in her brother’s stronghold. Her sister liked to remind her that she was next to marry, but Kila had no prospects in mind. In all this time, she had yet to find someone she cared for. Was romance overrated then? She wanted to think that this was the case, yet witnessing her siblings with their spouses was proof that love did exist.
Mairead paused, and frowned when she saw Kila getting up from her stool. “Ye seem verra restless today, lass. Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine,” she said, studiously avoiding her gaze.
She reached under her seat and brought out her favorite book. Thinking about the faery realm was her escape, and she often went there in her
imagination. Besides, it was more interesting to read about myths and legends than to hear talk about marital bliss. She turned her back on the woman and wandered to the small window that overlooked the courtyard.
The sky was slightly overcast, which reflected her mood. The guards were at their usual posts, manning the ramparts. The English had retreated long ago, but Rory was always vigilant and made certain that the fortress was protected at all times.
In the distance, she saw the outline of the town, with its cluster of houses. On the far right was the village chapel and just past the trees, she could see the mountain range. And beyond that were places she was unlikely to see.
Kila forced her attention away from the horizon and set her sights on the courtyard below. As expected, the enclosure was busy. The oven was located next to the kitchen tower, and the baker was at the stone structure, baking bread for the next meal. A steady stream of servants walked to the well to fill buckets of water for the kitchen. Somewhere near the stables, the blacksmith pounded his hammer, causing a constant rhythmic ringing as he manipulated pieces of iron.
A shout sounded from the courtyard and as usual, Kila saw warriors practicing their battle drills. Two of her brothers Cailean and Ewan (her twin) were there, training with their claymores. Cailean was three years older than her and Ewan. She was willing to bet that for the men, marriage was the furthest thing from their minds. All they needed to worry about was how to hone their combative skills. She, on the other hand, knew that Rory had plans for her. And she dreaded knowing when those plans would be unveiled.
Kila opened her book and tried to read a passage, but this time the familiar stories provided no comfort for her. She blinked at the words as too many thoughts raced through her mind.
“Ye should put away your book and help us with the embroidery, Kila,” Mairead said, disapproval sounding in her voice. “Ye are always trying tae escape tae your fantasy world. Ye need tae be here in the present. This tapestry willnae get done on its own.”
She turned and glared at her sister. Since their mother died, Mairead had taken on a maternal role and often used an authoritative tone on her. There were times, like now, when the attitude grated on Kila’s nerves. Mairead was her sister, not her mother.
“My fantasy world is better than this place,” she said, gesturing at the solar walls.
She was about to say more when there was a tap on the door. In the next instant, the door opened, and Rory, their oldest brother, and clan chief walked in. It was the perfect timing. He appeared just in time to save Kila from being reprimanded by Mairead.
“What are ye doing here, Rory?” Kila burst out.
Darra got up from her stool and approached her husband. “Is there a problem, love?” she asked.
For a moment, he gazed at his wife as if she was the only woman in the room. But then he seemed to remember that he had an audience.
“There is nae problem,” he said, shaking his head.
But no one in the room believed him. Everyone in the chamber was well aware that the chief rarely visited the women’s solar. The feminine trappings in this room made most men uncomfortable. Unsurprisingly, Rory preferred his private solar.
Rory cleared his throat uncomfortably. “The last time Henry MacIachlan was here, he was quite taken with Kila. I thought she’d make an excellent representative, and escort him around the castle.”
Kila frowned when she caught Mairead and Darra exchanging relieved looks. The MacIachlan had a reputation at this castle, and no one wanted to spend time with him. But the laird had asked specifically for her, and she couldn’t refuse the request. If she did, she risked unraveling all the progress Rory made in negotiating an alliance with the clan.
Rory led the way, and she had no choice but to follow him.
“Mairead and I will come with ye,” Darra said, joining them.
Kila should have felt better having the woman accompany them, but with each step she took, she couldn’t get rid of the dread that settled in the middle of her chest. Though the ladies in the solar refrained from saying it out loud, the pitying expressions on their faces revealed what they thought of the situation.
“What have ye been doing today?” Rory asked as they made their way to the courtyard.
She raised an eyebrow at his awkward attempt to make conversation.
“’Tis what I usually do,” she said slowly. “I’ve been sewing, but ye should ken this. We’ve been toiling on the wall hanging for many months now.”
Rory nodded, but she could tell that he wasn’t listening to what she said, nor did he really care. He appeared distracted, which wasn’t unusual. Since their father’s illness, Rory was forced to take over as chief, and with that role came substantial responsibility. Everyone acknowledged that he was a competent leader and rarely refuted his decisions.
“Lady Darra,” a servant said, rushing toward them. “Muriel’s water just broke, and she’s calling for ye.”
“I’m sorry, Rory. I’m afraid I have tae leave,” Darra said.
“Ye might need my assistance,” Mairead said, “sae I’ll go with ye.”
“Ye might need my help as well,” Kila said quickly, ready to join the women.
“Nay, Kila. Ye are coming with me,” Rory said.
A sympathetic looked crossed her older sister’s face, although she made no attempt to support her. “Hopefully, we’ll see ye at supper.”
As Rory waved them away, something or someone caught his eye. He raised his arm as if in greeting.
Kila turned to see who had caught his attention. Henry MacIachlan had a big smile on his face and was making his way to them.
Suddenly, the reason that she was out in the courtyard with Rory began to make sense. She had a strange feeling as if Darra and Mairead knew more about this meeting than they let on. And that realization caused a sickening sensation to burn in the pit of her stomach.
“Tell me the rumors arenae true,” she said to Rory.
“What rumors are ye talking about?” As he looked at her, she had time to study his features.
“Ye are intending tae marry me off, are ye nae?”
Mairead and her three older brothers were married. Cailean, Kila and Ewan were the only ones remaining. There was no chance Rory would force either Cailean or Ewan to wed, so that left only her. She clenched her fists as the sense of disappointment and unfairness engulfed her.
“I willnae marry an auld man who I dinnae love.”
A guilty expression crossed Rory’s face, although he didn’t answer her question.
“Henry MacIachlan is here,” he said.
Kila wanted to say something more, but the old laird was almost upon them. Her brother stepped closer to the visitor. She couldn’t bring herself to move, and she looked quickly around her for a chance to escape. Alas, she wasn’t fast enough.
“Do ye remember my sister Kila?” Rory asked the Laird.
“Of course, how can I forget such beauty?” he said.
Rory glanced back at her, and his eyes narrowed slightly when he noticed that she had taken several steps away from them.
Kila felt a guilty blush rise to her cheeks, and she reluctantly returned to the men.
“How are ye, Henry?” she asked, studiously avoiding Rory’s gaze.
“I’m sae much better now that ye are here.” Henry took her hand and enclosed his large, sweaty palm over it. Since she didn’t want to witness the censorious look on her brother’s face, she looked at the laird, but it was a mistake. A lecherous gleam reflected in his eyes, and he scanned her body as if he wanted to see past her gown. She wanted to snatch her hand away from him. Unfortunately, she knew that Rory would be furious with her if she embarrassed him in front of his peer.
“I’m flattered,” she murmured. She cast her gaze to the ground to veil her true feelings.
“Och, I see the MacTyrnell has just arrived.” Rory nodded to the old laird. “I’ll go greet him while Kila takes ye tae the Great Hall. I’ll meet ye there shortly.”
Chapter 2
William MacTyrnell dismounted as Rory came to meet him. “’Tis guid tae see ye again,” he said, greeting the MacGregon chief.
“Aye, it has been a while,” he said.
They both knew why it was such a long time since the last visit. Scotland and England were embroiled in a bloody conflict. Fortunately, they were victorious against their enemy.
The chief beckoned to a couple of groomsmen. “Take the horses tae the stable. And show the MacTyrnell’s men tae the barracks.”
Rory silently acknowledged Grant MacCeikan, William’s commander who had arrived just as the servants began to carry out their laird’s orders. Rory turned to William. “Ye are looking tired, my friend. Was the journey difficult?”
“I was expecting tae meet a lot more robbers if ye want tae ken the truth. But ye dinnae have any,” he frowned. “I’m assuming we’re the only unfortunate clan tae have such an abundance of outlaws in our territory.”
“My brothers do fine work in keeping things lawful here,” he said, leading the way.
The MacGregon brothers were a powerhouse, and William wasn’t surprised that they worked closely together to maintain tight control over their land.
He looked at his surroundings, observing the inhabitants going about their chores. The scene was different from what he was used to seeing since each person seemed to move with purpose.
“I dinnae ken how ye keep such order,” he said, gesturing to the cluster of servants fixing the roof on the stable. Obviously, there had to be an overseer, but it was difficult to determine who he was since every man was busy working on the repair.
Another small group of servants was mending the pig enclosure. The guards were stationed at the gatehouse and on the ramparts. Every person in the courtyard seemed engaged in some sort of useful task. In all, the neat and orderly conduct in the courtyard demonstrated the castle’s efficiency.
William swallowed as a small ball of envy lodged in the middle of his throat. He had high hopes that the alliances with Rory MacGregon and Henry MacIachlan would help him with his clan. At the very least, the union would bring a sense of security to his people. Then when the issue of safety was addressed, he could focus on bringing a similar harmony to his clan.
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